


you are all for me

by weatheredlaw



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Body Worship, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-09-03 20:33:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8729122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weatheredlaw/pseuds/weatheredlaw
Summary: And it is not such a bad thing that steel is capable of melting, she thinks, as he does so in her hands.She is strong enough to withstand the burn.





	

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for all the amazingly kind and beautiful feedback you've given me on the pieces i've written for this ship so far. i really wanted to explore a more intimate setting with these two, and i hope this goes over well. i'm extremely happy with how it went as i wrote it, so i hope you all enjoy it as well.

The band is playing her favorite song.

Tina remembers, rather fondly, that she loves this piece, and she loves this wine, and she loves this man – standing awkwardly in the center of a group of towering MACUSA heads and various publishers. He’d been speaking to the French director for the Department of Magical Creature Control and Extermination (“It _exists_ ,” he’d told her, completely _distraught_ at dinner one night) looking pleased that he’d managed to convince Monsieur Babineux to read his book and consider dropping the word _extermination_  from his vocabulary.

But, all this aside, the night is going well. Tina’s favorite song is playing, and the wine is very good.

“Excuse me.”

She turns, and Newt is looking at her the way he often does, as if he is, all at once, surprised and blessed to be in her presence. It is mildly disarming.

“Mr. Scamander.”

“I wondered if I might have this dance?” he asks, and takes her wine, setting it on the table. “If I recall correctly, this is the preferred piece for a very certain woman that I know.” He leads her onto the floor, and Tina laughs as he gives her a gentle twirl. Her heart and mind know Newt as a ruddy-haired, dirt streaked _philosopher_ , but her logic reminds her that he is another son descended from a long line of pure-blooded witches and wizards, with more money than god.

The wizard can _dance._

“And this woman?” she asks, settling into his arms.

“Ah. I met her recently. Very beautiful, sometimes a bit mean—” Tina raises a brow. “But only when I deserve it,” he adds.

“Sounds like a real pain.”

“Quite the opposite,” he murmurs. “More like a relief. A breath of fresh air, if you will.” Another turn, his hand sliding along her waist and hip. “Clean water after months of drinking from the river. Never could quite get the mud out.”

“You poor soul,” she says, cupping his cheek in her hand.

“Well, not so poor now.” His mouth is dangerously close to hers, and a swift turn she initiates reminds him that they are in a rather public place. “Forgive me.”

“You are welcome to kiss me for as long as you please _later_ , Mr. Scamander. If,” she adds, “this woman you’ve met doesn’t mind.”

He grins. “I certainly hope she doesn’t.”

 

* * *

 

They stand a foot apart in the lift, save for the gentle tug of his fingers on her own. Newt pulls on his bow tie, loosening it as they step onto their floor, fishing his room key from his pocket. Tina watches him, smiling as his fingers tremble a bit, fumbling the lock before he pushes open the door and gives her a little bow. “Miss Goldstein.” She laughs, tugging him inside.

Their lips meet before the door is even shut.

Newt is ever surprising her – he is the gentlest soul Tina has ever met, with a heavy core of protected, ever-turning steel, grounding him in his beliefs and principals.

But he is also flame, and she remembers that there can be nothing but passion inside a man’s heart who could love a _kneazle_.

“You’re considering me,” Newt murmurs, smiling as Tina’s hands come up to push off his dinner jacket, letting it fall to the floor. “You’ve got that look.”

“I have a lot of looks.”

“The one you get when you’re wondering where I came from.” He tips her head back and presses a series of kisses along the column of her throat. “I did not crawl out of the sea, Tina.”

“I’m aware.”

Newt laughs. “It’s what my brother used to tell me. That mother found me on a beach, like a shark in its casing.”

“Newt.” Tina pulls back, lifting his chin up with two fingers. “I am trying to undress you. I would rather not talk about the after-birth of sharks.”

“Well. If you insist.”

 

* * *

 

She stands with her back pressed against him, shivering as his fingers undo the buttons of her dress. It slips from her, pools on the floor at her ankles, and she steps out as his hands turn her around, pressing her flush with his chest.

Tina fumbles a bit with the buttons of his shirt, missing one and sending it flying when she finally manages to tug it off.

“That was my _favorite_ button,” he says.

“Ass.”

“Impetuously so,” he murmurs, and urges her toward the bed. “This is alright, though, isn’t it?” They stop short, her leg precariously between the two of his, his hands on her waist, the two teetering ever so close.

And she wants to tease. She wants to push, just a bit, but his look is earnest, and she remembers –

Her Newt is a philosopher. Gentle of soul, kind of heart, and the steel inside is still capable of melting.

So she says, “This is perfect.”

So she says, “This is exactly what I want.”

So she says, “I love you.”

(And it is not such a bad thing that steel is capable of melting, she thinks, as he does so in her hands.

She is strong enough to withstand the burn.)

 

* * *

 

“Maybe you did crawl out of the ocean,” she manages, as moonlight crisscrosses the room, illuminating the parts of him she does not always see. A scar along his back, a few on his chest. A prominent line gracing his abdomen, and Tina sits up to touch, reminded that there is a war to be fought where Newt’s passions are concerned.

“It’s quite possible.” He runs a hand through his hair, trying in vain to keep it out of his face, and Tina laughs. “You’re thinking about a haircut, and I am going to say, again, for the thousandth time, absolutely not.”

“You’d look very handsome.”

“Hair is hair. It’s not—” Tina surges up to kiss him, fingers tangling in that mop, pulling him into her orbit. “Merlin’s beard, you’re good at that.”

“The kissing?”

He laughs. “That, too.” And he gently pushes her onto her back, settling between her knees and pressing a kiss to her thigh. “Disarming me.”

“I have the training.”

“Oh, Tina.” Another kiss, and a bit of teeth, too. She hisses, and he looks up quickly, concern in his face.

“No, it’s fine. It’s good.”

“I didn’t—”

“If you hurt me, Newt, believe me. I will tell you.”

“Promise.”

(Molten steel, molten steel, gentle and kind and—)

“I promise.”

 

* * *

 

She has seen his hands at their softest and their most wicked, wrestling beasts into his case and prying infant creatures from the clutches of their poached mothers. She has seen _Newt_ at his softest and his most wicked, and she has loved him at every turn.

Here, between her legs, clever, wicked fingers inside and around her, she remembers how very _much_ she loves him, and how long she’d imagined the feel of him.

This is not their first time falling into bed together, but it has always been tentative before, always carefully avoiding the most intimate of places, the most intimate of gestures and words. Now, there is no barrier, and Newt carefully slides two of his fingers into her, thumb ghosting over her clit. He moves his mouth down to taste her, a soft groan reverberating through the _entirety_ of her, catching her off guard. Tina arches her back, a hand steadying herself on the back of his head, stroking the nape of his neck. One leg dangles over his shoulder, drawing him further in, her heel pressing against his back as he pushes especially hard with three fingers, now, his mouth moving to drag his teeth over her hip.

“ _Ah—_ ”

Newt sits up, holding his fingers still inside her. His eyes are rather unfocused, but they find hers and she nods as his other hand reaches up to lift her leg from his shoulder before pressing a kiss to the bend of her knee. Tina stretches her legs, a soft moan escaping as he starts moving again, his hand now stroking her clit faster, more urgently.

“ _Newt_ —”

“I know, I know.” His voice is rich, gentle as he takes her pleasure into his own hands. He only stops to lean down and kiss her, once, before he murmurs, “I have you, Tina. It’s alright.”

He moves, and she almost winds her entire body around him, legs tightening as she urges herself closer and closer to the edge, just before –

She cries out, every part of her crashing onto the shore he might have crawled on to, so many years ago.

(And she is the molten one, now, loose and unstable as he holds her. Gentle, kind, steel.)

Tina stares up, and his face suddenly appears in her line of vision, hair mussed and damp with sweat.

“That was alright then?” he asks, looking a bit too smug.

Tina gives him a shove, sending him straight to the floor on a pile of their clothes.

 

* * *

 

His own release is an easy thing to find, and Tina has discovered that Newt is a bit like an octopus, arms and hands and fingers winding around her every which way as he comes, head tossed back as he lets out a soft groan of pleasure, breathing heavy. Tina goes to fetch a towel to clean them both, and they lay there for a while staring at the ceiling. Tina realizes now it’s been enchanted to show them the stars.

“Nice perk,” she murmurs.

“Mmm.”

She looks at him, smiling. “Have we rendered you speechless, Mr. Scamander?”

“That’s not such a hard thing to achieve,” he mumbles, stifling a yawn. “But I am exhausted, if that’s what you were wondering.”

“It’s been a long day.”

“I quite enjoyed the end,” he manages, finally giving in and yawning wide. He tucks her closer, resting his chin on her head.

“It was alright,” she teases.

“You wound me, Miss Goldstein.” He pulls away and tips her chin up. “Terribly so.”

“I guess I’ll have to make it up to you.”

He laughs. “Later. In the morning, perhaps.”

“I can manage that,” she says, and reaches down to pull the blanket over them both.

Newt sighs, yawning again before closing his eyes. “I’m sure you can.”

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr @weatheredlaw


End file.
